


Shoot your shot

by CallMeTheNuge (Giraffe23)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hockey, Jealousy, M/M, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Possessive Behavior, Sharing Clothes, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:41:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giraffe23/pseuds/CallMeTheNuge
Summary: Sidney Crosby's life has been ruled by rituals and aspirations for a long time.He's always stuck by his personal superstitions and, as a result, he's achieved more than he could really dream of.However, his rules and goals aren't just for on the ice. Some of them are, arguably, even more important and deal with his actual life.One of them, is especially important when it comes to one Evgeni Malkin. Not that Sid would ever tell anyone else that.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56





	Shoot your shot

**Author's Note:**

> This came into being because I saw a YouTube vid about the overhyped Crosby/Giroux rivalry years ago and it got me thinking.
> 
> I'm pretty sure all hockey players have a kink for SO's wearing your jersey so one thing led to another.
> 
> Either way, this got written and I kinda don't regretti. Eh. It's not based on any particular game but set in the 2018-2019 season so yeet.
> 
> I hope you enjoy and lemme know if you do with a Kudo/comment. :)

The sound of his doorbell chiming over and over again jolted Sid out of his pre-game nap and he blinked at the harsh light sneaking in around his curtains. The repeated press of the bell sending a spike of annoyance through his blood with every fresh ring. Again and again and again.

Eventually, Sid forced himself to sit up and rubbed at his eyes to get the worst of the sleep out of them. Sid glared over at his alarm clock that was still at least half an hour from when he had set the alarm for. Just sitting so he could stare at it for a few more moments, making _absolutely_ sure it wasn't actually time to get up, Sid finally gave up and untangled the sheets from around his legs to answer the incessant ringing.

_What idiot was-_

The ringing started up again, louder and more insistent than before. With a shake of his head, Sid swung his legs out of bed and padded down the stairs to his front door, not even bothering to grab something to cover up his bare chest. At the last minute, he managed to remember that it might be a cocky reporter looking for an illicit interview and Sid made a fruitless attempt at flattening his ruffled hair as he went; letting his sleepy frustration gear up for a confrontation if needed.

The string of curses against whoever was interrupting his pre-game ritual continued as Sid unlocked the door and braced himself for the chill of the outside air. Sid opened the door just enough to be able to glare out at the offender and could only huff out a sigh when he was met with a familiar, happy grin even if it did look a little sheepish.

"Geno," Sid greeted his teammate and settled against the door as the drowsiness still present from his nap made the annoyance humming through his body dissipate immediately.

"Hey, sleepy Sid, hope I'm not interrupt anything important."

"I was napping."

"Yes."

"It was important. You ruined it."

"Sorry, you are wanting someone to cuddle you back to sleep? I can help?"

"No, I've got it covered, thanks, G. Why are you here?"

"Covered? Someone is with you?"

Sid tilted his head as he watched Geno try and get around him in the doorway to check his entranceway for... something? Sid didn't even try to work out what the other was doing as he felt the draw of sleep trying to reclaim its hold on him. A yawn escaped his lips as he dropped his head against the edge of the door and the noise drew Geno's attention back to him with a small frown.

"Tired? You have a nap before the game if so."

" _You_ woke me _up_ ," Sid pointed out, still confused and a little too far from fully awake to understand why Geno was standing on his porch and glaring at his coat rack behind him.

"Right, sorry, you say."

"Why are you here, G?"

Sid waited for Geno to start on an explanation but the other man returned to looking over Sid's shoulder and then down at Sid before glaring into the house again. Following Geno's fleeting gaze down to his body, Sid took in his bare chest and old boxers that he had stripped down to in order to sleep and tried to blink away the last of his sleepiness.

After a while, Sid's tired mind gave up on waiting for a response and took the time to watch Geno while the other was distracted. The way the early afternoon sun settled on Geno's handsome features and made them even more striking, especially in his suit, brushed aside all the reasons that usually swirled around in Sid's mind that told him not to look. _Ever_.

Just as his eyes had begun to droop down a gush of particularly cold wind hit his skin and finally snapped Sid back into wakefulness; awareness of his current situation sank in. He was staring.

_Fuck_.

And standing practically naked at his front door.

_Double fuck._

Sid glanced around quickly to see if anyone was nearby and sighed in relief at the empty suburb. While Geno had seen Sid in every state of undress imaginable in the locker room, and the occasional drunken night out, Sid's neighbors hadn't and he'd like to keep it that way. The thought of having to crawl back to Mario for a few weeks while he moved again because the neighborhood watch had kicked him out made Sid grimace.

"Ah, why don't you come in?"

"You sure?" Geno questioned as he pushed past Sid; already distracted by looking around the bottom floor of Sid's house and not waiting for a reply.

Shaking his head with a sigh, this time of fond exasperation, Sid followed Geno into the kitchen. The other man had picked up a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter and already taken a huge bite as he continued to look around suspiciously.

"I already told you. There's no one here."

"That what you would say," Geno reasoned around his stuffed mouth.

"Because it's true."

"You don't dress like-" Geno waved his hand at Sid, still peering around the kitchen. "-to sleep on own, so where are they? I want to meet."

"There's no one- why can't I dress like this? It's my home."

"Boxers," Geno stated as if that made the reasoning crystal clear. "You always wearing bottoms and shirt on the road."

"Well… it's warmer now," Sid scrambled for words as the knowledge that Geno paid that much attention to him made his heart do traitorous flip-flops.

"But you _always_ cold. Bad Canadian, cold cold, _cold_."

Sid's reply died on his lips, he had no counter to that. Geno had him backed into a corner and there was no way Sid was going to win the argument without spilling the truth. _Yes_ , he always wore lots of clothes while they were on the road but it wasn't for being cold.

"I _am_ not," Sid mumbled after a while, just needing to have the last word no matter how petty.

"My jumpers in wardrobe here say different," Geno grinned sharply, knowing he had just bulldozed the win, and took another large bite from his banana.

Sid stood in the middle of his kitchen with his mouth hanging open as if he had just been flattened by Zamboni driven by an elephant. Geno, the bastard, winked at him and continued to eat the banana.

Sid watched him for a moment longer before he realised just staring was probably creepy so he grabbed a hoodie - damn Geno he _wasn't_ cold - that was hanging on the back of a chair and pulled it on. Feeling on a more even keel now he was covered, Sid poured himself a glass of water and turned to Geno.

"It's a game day, what are you doing here?" Sid asked, determined to get back to business.

"What?"

"You came here, what do you want? Other than my food?"

"I umm…" Geno took another large bite of banana before he could continue and Sid rolled his eyes at his teammate.

Sitting at his kitchen island, Sid settled down to wait for whatever weird Russian reasoning had driven Geno over to his house on a game day. There was no point in trying to guess or force it out of him because that hadn't worked in all the years Sid had known him. In fact, apart from on the ice, where Sid could read his teammates' plays as if they were his own, he had no clue what was going on in Geno's head most of the time.

Over the years, Sid had grown more attuned to the ways Geno's mind worked or didn't - it was debatable. However, despite how long Geno had been around and how much they had been through together, Sid was mostly as still in the dark as he had been the day they met.

For as long as he could remember Sid's life had been dominated by the constant presence of hockey and then, once on the Pens, Geno. _The two loves of his life_ , Flower had once joked after Sid had drunkenly confessed his crush to the other man during Geno's first season with the Pens. Sid hadn't bothered to correct him since it was true and Geno, who was still struggling with his English at the time, had little chance of finding out.

When Geno had first joined the team, spouting lines about watching The Sidney Crosby playing and how inspirational he was, it had been flattering if not embarrassing beyond belief. As the years passed and it changed to Geno constantly inserting himself in Sid's life, even outside the game, it had become nearly unbearable. Geno had been accepted in Sid's day to day routine with only a simple: " _we are teammates_ ", to explain his new presence there. Of course, Sid couldn't _blame_ Geno. It wasn't as if Geno knew he was making Sid's life hell by following him around all the time. It wasn't as if Sid could tell him he had fallen head over heels from the second he saw him on the ice, or maybe even before.

There were many reasons Sid had forced those feelings down back then and still did in the present day. The list of reasons why it would be a bad idea continued to play through Sid's head every time he was tempted but had less and less weight with each recounting. The pros and cons changing over the years but always ending up balanced and taunting Sid with the ' _what if_?' and ' _why not?'._

**Con:**

**He had wanted to go pro and being 'out' was hard in the league.**

Pro:

It was hard but not _impossible._ Sid was under no illusion that he wouldn't come out wholeheartedly for the right person. He'd made a place for himself and would survive coming out just fine.

**Con:**

**His parents might not approve of such a lifestyle and be ashamed or worse.**

Pro:

Sid felt guilty for even considering the option as an excuse because he had always known it was so unlikely with how supportive they were. Embarrassingly so at times.

**Con:**

**He was Geno's Captain. It might be taking advantage.**

Pro:

They were both independent and free-thinking adults. Hockey Captain didn't mean that he had any say about anything else his team did in their personal lives.

**Con:**

**Geno was proudly Russian and Sid was well aware of what some of his country mens thoughts about homosexuality and anyone that supported it.**

Pro:

Geno had never showed any personal resignations about such things and even accepted the You Can Play reps with a friendly smile.

**Con:**

**He was gay and Geno was…**

Sid always faltered there. _Always_. There was no counter to that reason; he couldn't change the way someone was wired just because he wished hard enough.

They'd never directly discussed sexuality in the way that straight people often didn't because they didn't have the need to come out; to clarify; to define. They were the default, the expected. A straight guy would probably never consider asking his mate such a question without a teasing smirk or a jeering laugh. Why would they, when they could just assume. So, Sid didn't _know_ but he'd only ever seen Geno showing interest in women and even if he was open to men and kept it well hidden, he had certainly never shown an inclination towards Sid.

For his entire career, Sid had clung to his list of reasons with ferocity; endured Geno's presence and then scampered off with his heart in tatters as soon as the end of the season allowed. He'd desperately cut off almost all contact, within reason, just for the naïve hope he could finally move on and grow up over the summer.

However, every time he returned to training camp Geno was there, and Sid was seemingly more gone on him than before. Geno, for his part, hadn't helped matters either, growing more comfortable with the team and new country and, by extension, his interactions with Sid. Every return Geno would get closer and closer and closer. With Geno getting tangled in his life at every turn Sid had bitten his tongue and kept quiet about the unwanted stirring in his chest every time Geno smiled at him. Helplessly repeating the list over and over.

_I'm a professional hockey player. My parents would be shocked. I'm his Captain. He's Russian. He's straight._

"I'm wanting to head in early," Geno's voice sharply broke through Sid's musings and Sid looked up just as the other tossed his banana peel into the bin on the other side of the kitchen. He wished he could throw the stupid list in after it.

"What?"

"I'm think we head in early today. It's Flyers and you need some practice."

" _Me_? Why do I-?" Sid complained, feeling affronted but took a deep breath to stop his competitiveness driving him into giving Geno what he wanted. "If you wanted to go early you should have called Wilson or Tanger, they're sometimes there early; you didn't have to bother me."

"I didn't think of that," Geno muttered as he reached out to fiddle with an orange.

"You never think," Sid scolded and slapped Geno's hand away from the bowl. "Eat your own food. You already ate my banana."

"But Sid-"

"Stop stealing my food and interrupting my nap."

" _Fine_ ," Geno grumped and he stopped trying to steal the orange in favour of looking pleadingly up at Sid. "But you are coming with me to rink, yes?"

"Why? The ice won't even be open and you can't work out from now until the game warm-up starts. The only people at the area will be reporters and-" Sid froze as the memory of long, elegantly styled hair and a charming laugh popped into his head. Sid let his head fall into his hands with a groan. "You want to talk to the new network reporter, don't you? The tall one? Is she Russian?"

For a moment Geno looked like he'd deny it, Sid desperately and selfishly wanted him to, but finally he deflated and shrugged his shoulders.

"She's hot," He explained simply.

"And with the _press_."

Geno simply shrugged and Sid could sense the other man's reluctance about the topic. The last time they had talked about women, Geno had done most of the talking, and relationships had been right after Geno's break up with his long term girlfriend. _Russian girlfriend_ , Sid's mind supplied helpfully. It had hit Geno hard and they had spent a few months, responsibly, drowning his sorrows. A good friend would be happy Geno was getting back out there but Sid could feel the ugliness of his irrational jealousy beginning to bloom.

"You're unbelievable, G."

"I don't realize you so concerned about dating in hockey."

"I'm not," Sid swallowed down the words that wanted to burst out and tell Geno exactly how _little_ he thought about fraternisation rules on the team but instead he just sighed.

"Then what the- shit, do _you_ like her? I back off, Sid, I'm not realising you were into… well…"

"I don't- you know what, never mind. Do what you want."

"Am serious, Sid, if you like I'm not go near. Time you found someone. Find a nice girl. She is Russian, will be good for you."

Sid paused and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose in annoyance. If only Geno knew. He had _tried_ the nice girl route in highschool and then a beard during his early years in the NHL, both of which had ended terribly. He'd even tried finding a nice man back home in Nova Scotia but that had crashed and burned too. He'd stopped trying to settle down after that and turned to a discreet hook-up site which he now realised meant _married_. Overall, he tried not to think about it.

"Stop it. I don't need anyone, least of all you, setting me up with strangers."

"Not like that, Sid. I'm just saying-"

"Well don't," Sid snapped and turned away to grab something blindly out of a cabinet just so the, no doubt, absolutely pathetic look of hurt wasn't displayed on his face for Geno to see.

"I'm not judge you if you wanted to-"

"I told you to stop, Geno. I'm not- I don't- I'm _fine_."

"Yes, sound fine," Geno sounded unimpressed and then he perked up to smirk over at Sid. "Unless you wait for someone special? Have your eye on someone else? The romantic Sidney Crosby."

"I'm going to change. Don't break anything," Sid all but ran out of the room to avoid Geno's words, the last thing he needed on a game day was his thoughts distracted and sulky over a childish crush he should have gotten over years ago.

Geno was so painfully unaware of Sid's plight, and had been so since Sid had met him, that there wasn't even a point in trying. It was completely and utterly hopeless but Sid's heart had stubbornly remained fixated on the man-child currently sitting in his kitchen without reprise.

_Hockey player. Parents. Captain. Russian. Straight_.

Quickly changing into his favourite game-day suit - if his nap was ruined maybe he could appease the hockey gods with his clothing instead - Sid grabbed a game bag and threw it over his shoulder. Finally, he jogged down the stairs to grab some shoes. Now that he was awake and getting ready to leave for the arena, the jitters of the game-day nerves had Sid ready to just get on with his preparations; plus he wanted to stop Geno's one-man crusade to get Sid laid or engaged. _Cringe_.

"You coming?" Sid shouted back into the kitchen and couldn't help a chuckle at the sound of scrambling feet.

"I thought you gone to finish nap," Geno said in surprise as he came into the hallway looking confused.

"And what? You were just going to sit in my kitchen while I slept and then head in together later?"

It had been meant as a joke but Geno's silence told Sid that is exactly what he thought he would do. _Hadn't he wanted to talk to the reporter?_ Sid frowned and paused with one shoe on as uncertainty washed over him.

"I interrupt your nap, your ritual; I thought… I don't know-. You done before, Flower tell me that in-"

"Well, I'm awake now - thanks to you - so let's go."

"And you're okay with-? With reporter and… everything?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Sid forced himself to reply casually and continue putting on his shoes. "None of my business who you flirt with. I'll leave you to it and find the guys, no big."

"Oh… so you not- well, that's good. I don't want you to steal her away from me with looks; with _ass_."

"As if. I don't think anyone would be looking away from you. They'd have to be stupid not to see what a catch you are."

Sid immediately clenched his jaw shut as the realisation of what he had just said choked him up. Geno was looking at him weird, definitely weird but a good weird or bad weird? He couldn't tell. Just _weird_. Sid tried to take a deep breath, it was normal to compliment another guy like, completely normal and _not_ weird. Geno was going to hit on a girl and Sid was giving him a boost; nothing else, that's all.

_For fuck's sake_.

"Really?"

Sid jumped at Geno's question and deliberately ignored the strange inflection of the word. If he pretended it was fine, then it would be. Only he was reading more into what he said. Straight-as-a-rod Geno would never even consider his words anyway other than a bro helping out another.

_Hockey player. Parents. Captain, Russian. Straight_.

"Oh, yeah. Any girl with half a brain and any interest in you would be into it. Girls like muscles like that… I mean, I imagine they do anyway. My sister does."

"Yeah… girls… good."

"Yeah," Sid forced a smile, he had to just keep pretending. "Anyway, are you ready to go?"

"Hmm? Oh, sure."

Sid nodded and reached out to grab his car keys off their hook but Geno quickly stepped forward to stop him.

"Both take mine? Since I'm here."

"Geno... what about the reporter?"

"What about her?"

"What if- well, what if you want to pick up after the game? You don't need me along with your date."

"Not happen," Geno shrugged and tugged the front door open, clearly already decided but leaving Sid very confused. Wasn't that the whole point of heading in early? "Probably not anyway, so…"

"What if _I_ want to pick up? Can't get you or one of the guys to drop us both back here, can I?"

"You want pick up?" Geno froze on the front step and looked back at Sid with a frown. Sid echoed the frown with one of his own - hadn't Geno just been pushing him to find someone?

"It's all hypothetical," He eventually forced out. "We have to win first; better not jinx it."

"So… we taking..?"

"Sure, we'll take yours but we're stopping by a juice place on the way. I want something with kiwi and you owe me."

"I do?"

"For my nap. You're paying."

"Like date?" Geno stuck his tongue between his teeth as he grinned and then lunged out the way of Sid's fist.

"Dickhead!"

"What?" Geno laughed as he pranced around the lawn trying to egg Sid into a chase. "Food and a hockey game? Sounds like American date Gonch tells me about. You sure not want to date me, Sid? Maybe I am special, romantic someone."

Sid swallowed and shoved his shaking hands into his pockets.

"In your dreams."

"In yours," Geno called out before climbing into his car and slamming the door.

Sid shook his head and quickly locked up before following the other man into the car. He knew he should scold his renegade heart as it happily beat against his rib cage from the playful banter but seeing as the rest of his body was also onboard with the mushy feeling, he decided to just go with it.

By the time he climbed into the car, Geno was fiddling with the radio and the weirdness had dissipated from the air. Their usual ribbing taking the place of the strange energy from the house as Geno put the car into gear and pulled out onto the street.

Geno stuck to his word and even made use of their extra time to go a little out of his way to a juice bar that had just opened up on the outskirts of the shopping district. When Sid had questioned the usually staunch juice-hater - they had argued enough times about Sid's obsession with the refreshment in the past - why he knew about the place, Geno had shrugged and said he'd seen an advert somewhere and wanted to try it. Sid hadn't pressed the issue, it didn't really matter anyway since he got his assorted blended fruit and Geno had chosen a basic fresh orange juice without too much complaint.

They were just finishing the juices when they sauntered in through the arena doors to head into the players' area. Sid didn't bother paying attention to his surroundings as he followed the route made familiar by hundreds of trips into the locker room and instead tried to chase the last few drops of his drink with a straw. He was just considering if he could sneak into the massage room to try and finish his nap when Geno suddenly stepped into his path.

"You hungry? Maybe we grab something from café?"

Sid followed Geno's half-hearted gesture down the corridor heading in the opposite direction to the locker room and frowned. Geno was fidgeting where he stood in front of Sid and looked strangely unsettled.

"Are… are _you_ hungry?" Sid asked, trying to feel out what Geno really meant. "It's too early for my sandwich…"

"No, I eat before but if you are I go with you."

"Don't worry, I'm good. We can just head to the-"

"No!" Sid froze mid-turn as Geno shouted in what seemed like panic before composing himself with a small cough. "I mean… we very early, we head there and just… see if… if you fancy food… yes?"

Sid watched the other's shifting eyes and jittery movements for a moment before finally taking the time to look around himself. Skipping his gaze over the lobby of the arena, Sid paused when he spotted the reason for Geno's sudden about-turn in behaviour. Across the entrance from where they were hidden by a large plant, sitting in wait for the players to arrive, was a gaggle of reporters and, most importantly, the very one Geno had wanted to talk to earlier. _Was Geno nervous over talking to a woman?_

After he took a moment to collect himself and tramp down his jealousy, Sid turned back to Geno and caught the look in his eye. Geno knew that Sid had clocked the reporter and he suddenly looked even more nervous.

"Just go and talk to her, G."

"No, is alright," Geno shrugged and Sid felt his eyelid twitch in annoyance.

Geno had woken him up, ruining his game-day ritual; invaded his house; eaten his food, and dragged him to the arena early for this girl and now he was going to bottle it? The pit of jealousy and hurt that had settled in his stomach over the thought of Geno wanting another was suddenly completely overwhelmed by frustration at being used. _Oh, fuck no._

Sid was the team center and now, apparently, he was the team wingman as well; there was no way he was letting Geno get away with it. As much as he wanted to keep the two as far apart as possible - how selfish - he also wanted to push them together just out of spite.

"You wanted to talk to her."

"Yeah but, you right, she from Press and it's game day and I shouldn't-"

"Oh, no. You _definitely_ should," Sid grinned, feeling a little manic as he started to cross the lobby with a flustered Geno hot on his heels.

"Wait, Sid, I really not want-"

Sid ignored Geno's protests and headed straight for the lady who had looked up at him with an assessing pinch to her artfully reddened lips.

"Excuse me, miss, are you the new network reporter?"

"I am. Ksenia Bulantseva, a pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you Ms. Bulantseva. My name is Sidney Crosby and this is Evgeni Malkin."

"Yes, I umm… I know who you are, obviously," The reporter smiled bashfully at Geno and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear even as she spoke to Sid.

"Ah, well I just wanted to welcome you to the place. I know Press and Players get pitted against each other but I hope we can work well together," Sid forged ahead, voice dripping with sincerity and charm, as he watched Geno flush and remain silent beside him.

"Thank you. I'm looking forward to it, it's a big break to get to report for the Penguins."

"Anything you need while settling in, just let me or Geno, here, know. Okay?"

"Of course, thank you," Ksenia beamed and bowed her head in embarrassment before continuing. "Actually, would you umm… do you have time to give a short interview now? About the game?"

"Now?" Sid made a show of checking his watch and had to stop himself smirking at Geno's stricken look as he realised what Sid was planning. "I'm sorry but I have an appointment to get to. Geno would be happy to assist you though."

"Not sure I-" Geno started to protest but Sid just spoke over him cheerily.

"I'll leave him with you then, Ms. Bulantseva. It was nice to meet you."

Sid hurried off quickly, before Geno could protest any further, and darted around a corner heading towards the locker room; a small chuckle escaping him until realisation stopped him like a wall to the face. Sid stumbled back against the side of the corridor and banged his head against the brick.

"Fuck," He hissed out between his tightly clenched teeth and banged his head back a few more times.

That was the opposite of what he wanted to do. What was he thinking setting Geno up with someone? He'd practically pushed them together and run away, much to his embarrassment, and now he wanted to go back and drag Geno away again. It was really ridiculous how much Geno could get under his skin and made him act crazy. Case in point, if it had been anyone else on his door earlier he would have slammed the door in the face but Geno…

_Hockey player. Parents. Captain, Russian. Straight_.

Sid scoffed at himself, it really was lamentable. He tried to reach for the frustration and anger he had felt earlier, at being used by Geno, but not even the disruption to his game-day ritual could make the piteous feelings leave. Sid just wanted to slink away and hide somewhere until he felt at least a little less pathetic. His previous plans to find a flat surface and finish his nap floated to the front of Sid's mind and it offered a somewhat legit reason for disappearing into a dark room.

Resisting the urge to peek around the corner and see if Geno and the reporter had hit it off and instead headed down the corridor. He followed his usual winding route to avoid the guest locker room and greeted the few staff members he saw along the way. The door of the massage room had just come into view when Sid heard a voice calling out to him; Sid twisted to see the equipment manager heading in his direction.

"Dana?"

"Hey Sid. Everything alright? We weren't expecting you for another hour at least. Anything going on? Anything I should know about?"

Sid could see the nerves coming off the other man like it was a physical cloud above Dana's head. It was understandable, Sid hadn't deviated from his routine since concussion protocols had pushed him into more checks and even that was reluctant; so, it was bound to worry Dana that he was here now. _Early_ and not following his routine.

"Yeah, all good," Sid tried to offer a smile but it didn't seem to matter to Dana in the slightest. "I… uh- something came up."

"All sorted now? Anything I can do to help? I'm available now if you need anything."

"No, it's all… actually, I was going to slip in here and finish my nap if that's okay?"

Dana followed Sid's gesture to the massage room and frowned.

"I can block off the player lounge for you for an hour; you don't have to slum it in there."

"Oh, I- that would be great. Thanks Dana."

"It's what I'm here for," Dana quickly brushed off, already leading the way. "Well, I don't usually do this stuff but its no problem. I'll just make sure you're not disturbed. Do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm all set."

"You sure? A drink? A blanket? Headphones? I could get-"

"Dana," Sid couldn't help but laugh at the other man's fussing. "I'm fine."

"I know you are," Dana's shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath. "I guess I've become dependent on your superstitions through the years too. I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks Dana."

"I'll catch you later, kid."

Sid watched the closed door for a few moments before collapsing into one of the comfy sofas lining the room. He could feel a warm bubble filling his chest for the older man's words. He may feel lonely and pathetic sometimes but Sid knew he had good people around him. As sappy as it sounded, even in his own head, he knew there were people that loved him, a family; a team, and a city. He may not have the love that he wanted but he probably had more than enough anyway.

He fell asleep quickly and when the knock came to wake him up, Sid was feeling rested and ready for the game. The rest of his pre-game routine went without a hitch, probably due to Dana hovering and glaring at anyone that approached, but it was still nice to have a bit of space. He had just arrived in the locker room to change for a bit of football, greeting the guys that were already there jovially, when Tanger entered; pulling a red-faced Geno behind him.

"Guess where I just found Geno?" Ranger announced with a shit-eating grin.

"With your mum?" Kessel shouted.

"Nah, with yours," Tanger shot back. "But seriously, I caught him talking to one of the-"

Sid didn't bother to stick around for confirmation and instead hustled out of the room to do something, anything - probably hide behind Dana for a few minutes. Had Geno really been talking to the reporter for _hours_ after Sid left? That was pretty intense for the first meeting, wasn't it? Sid couldn't imagine ever having that much to say to a stranger that would fill up so long.

After slipping out, Sid did indeed seek out Dana with the thin guise of concern for his sticks. The equipment manager had just nodded seriously along to Sid's half-cocked concerns and then bustled off without another word. It made Sid feel a little guilty but his routine had been pushed pretty off-kilter all day and anything to nudge it back to normality was good. So, getting Dana to triple, or quadruple, check his sticks was not beneath him in the slightest. His escape tactic only gave him a short time away from the guys before they were heading past him to an open area, Maatta casually bouncing the football as they went by.

"You coming, Sid?" Tanger questioned when he spotted him, stopping when they were level in the corridor.

"You know it."

Sid followed easily, letting himself get distracted by Tanger's retelling of his son's latest, and absolutely ridiculous, exploits and the familiarity of the action. It wasn't until he was in his usual position in the circle and Tanger was on his second exasperated rehash of the tale that Sid noticed the weight of someone's gaze on him. He quickly passed the ball off to the next person and looked up.

There was an explosion of shouting as someone failed to pass the ball on; so, when Sid looked up at Geno and saw he was looking back, not reacting to the game, he was pretty sure he had caught the culprit. There was an odd look on the taller man's face that Sid couldn't quite read but was certain wasn't good. He wondered for a moment if his captaincy duties meant he had to go and ask or, if it could be left. As much as Sid wanted to leave it to wither and die he knew he wouldn't be able to let it go - hockey first, always.

Once they were finished with football, Sid herded the rowdy players back into the locker room to get ready. He stopped by the guys' stalls that hadn't partaken in the little warm-up, just checking in and giving small words of encouragement here and there before finally rounding to Geno. He was about to head over when the man in question had glanced over at him and Sid decided maybe having his pads on as a buffer, as a safety blanket, would be for the best. Geno looked like someone had just insulted all his most precious things in one fell swoop.

Suiting up quickly, Sid shoved his hat on his head and edged his way over. Geno was fiddling with something on his stall but straightened up hurriedly when Sid approached; nearly hitting his head on the shelf in his haste.

"You need something, Sid?"

"Just need to get out on the ice now," Sid shrugged and tried to gauge Geno's mood before continuing. "You ready, G?"

"Always ready to skate with you," Geno replied without missing a beat, grinning happily. "With the Pens."

"Good to hear."

"We go and show Flyers' who's ice they on. Penguins' ice, Penguins' city."

Sid couldn't help but laugh. "Exactly. Take them down a peg or two."

"Smash down through ice."

"Just make sure we're done scoring before you do that, G."

Sid was relieved when Geno tilted his head back in loud laughter, at least whatever had been bothering him before was easily remedied. He was about to turn back to his own stall and finish getting ready when Geno's hand caught his arm.

"Sid…"

"What, G?" A small weight settled in his stomach, why couldn't it ever be that simple?

"I… about what Tanger say earlier. You leave and look angry but it not what-"

"It's alright, Geno, I had to go and find Dana for something. You can talk to who you want… really."

"Yes, but I- wait? Why Dana?"

"I just wanted something checked with my sticks."

"Something wrong with stick?"

Geno had lost the weird edge to his expression and was now focused on Sid's situation. It usually made Sid feel a little weak at the knees having Geno's full attention and support about something so important to him; something other people sometimes found weird or obsessive but that Geno had just accepted. Instead, the small lie that wove itself through his actions and words made Sid feel guilty and uncomfortable.

"No, no. They're… uh… I just wanted them double-checked. I've been a bit off today so it was just-"

"Because I wake from nap," Geno nodded to himself as if that was obvious and muttered darkly in Russian.

"No, I mean- _maybe_. I probably need to rely a little less on all…" Sid let himself trail off, he knew his superstitions were just that, superstitions, but he couldn't quite bring himself to dismiss them; especially not directly before a game. "...that stuff."

"Is my fault, Sid. I'm never wake you from nap again."

"It's alright, G. No harm done, I can still go out and play."

"But not _happy_ , things not perfect. Want things to be perfect for Sid, always."

Sid blinked in shock as much from the words as from the empathic way Geno spoke. It took him a few moments to process the words, and then a few more to deal with the emotions it triggered before he could stutter out a response. The circling of his list in his head settling his nerves enough to think clearly and tramp down the little bit of hope.

_Hockey player. Parents. Captain, Russian. Straight_.

"I- I… Thanks, G, but- but I don't need perfect."

"Deserve it," Geno grumbled but seemed ready to drop the topic as he reached up and flipped Sid's cap off with a small smile. "Maybe Sid right. Just need this. Sid good enough to win anyway."

Sid was stopped from demanding an explanation to what _that_ meant by Sullivan's shouts into the room. The moment was broken as the guys began to line up in order to head on to the ice and Sid had to bite back his words. Once they had shuffled into place, Sid had twisted back to glare meaningfully at Geno but he had stared resolutely over Sid's head and down the tunnel.

He'd turned back around with a reluctant huff when they started to head out onto the ice and Sid picked up a puck to slam into the boards a few times. It was often situations like this, where Sid felt so overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings and worries, that made him really miss Flower. Of course, Fleury was an amazing tender, and a huge loss to the team, but he had also been Sid's person. The one he could go to no matter what, it had been a big adjustment without the man.

Trying to chase the confusion and storm of frustrated longing from his mind, Sid slammed a few more pucks off the boards; letting them ricochet off at all angles until he began to calm. Once the clammer of thoughts had faded to a dull roar, Sid settled in for a bit of stickhandling and tried to get his head in the game.

It worked for the first period, the brutal play on the ice keeping him deadly focused and the deep anger at the high-sticking penalty, which had only been in retaliation to a hit the refs had _missed_ , had him fuming his way through the long minutes he sat in the box. The bench was buzzing with chirps and encouragement as they rallied for each drop and tore through each play with vicious satisfaction. However, when the second period rolled around, Sid felt himself begin to slip from the steady thrum of _hockeyhockeyhockey_ going through his body and everything else jammed itself through the cracks.

Sid had barely even got both skates on the ice for the power play before the arena exploded. He sighed as the sounds of the crowd yelling and banging on the glass increased to a deafening roar in response to the fighting on the ice. Settling back onto his skates, Sid watched with resignation as Hornqvist continued to throw punches at the opposition’s centre despite the two refs holding them apart and a third skating over to intervene. They were meant to be using the power play; not getting themselves another player in the box.

The entire game had been littered with penalties and chirps in a way that only happened when they had a game against the Flyers. Nobody wanted to lose but there was something about the rival team, and their fans, that sent all the Pens players crazy - himself included. The game had been so dirty so far that, if Sid had to hazard a guess, he might even say they had broken the record of the number of penalty minutes in a game even though they had only got a few minutes into the second period. Maybe he should check hockeyfights.com after the game just to be sure.

The skirmish that played out in front of Sid had come as revenge for the stick Couturier had jabbed into the opening of McCann’s chest padding to butt-end the center at the end of the last play. The face-offs had been getting more and more aggressive and Sid couldn’t really work up the energy to feel sympathetic to McCann, even if a stick between the ribs was particularly unpleasant, since the other man had earned the opposition’s scorn after icing Hart.

It wouldn’t have gone any further than a few harsh words from McCann as he skated away, defeated, towards the bench but Horny had exploded forwards as soon as the power play unit was on the ice a few minutes later in response to a bad knee on knee collision, gloves already discarded on the ice behind him, and skating over to punch Couturier square in the jaw. They had been locked together after that, throwing close-quarters punches, as the crowd of fans egged them on. Other pairs had formed up over the ice as teammates threw a punch or were restrained from skating over and getting involved.

It was the same old thing over and _over_ again and Sid was getting, secretly, very tired of it all. He was all for taking the Flyers down hard but it was getting ridiculous. Cracking his stick down on the ice in frustration, Sid shifted his weight to his other leg and continued to watch. The fighting had stopped but the two rivals continued struggling as the refs clearly tried to talk some sense into them. Sid scoffed, _like that would do any good._

The entire game had been one thing after another, a cross-check responded to by a slew-foot; revenged by a slice to the hands which had resulted in a brutal shove into the boards and so on and so on. Sid was fed up with all the constant interruptions in play, he just wanted to skate and sink the puck as deep into the net as it would go; he understood the need to drop gloves and brawl every few minutes but it was just a distraction to what the game was really about.

“Hey, Crosby. Staying out of trouble as always I see.”

Sid rolled his eyes as the Flyers' winger and captain skated towards him and tightened his jaw down harder on his mouth guard to stop himself replying with a snide comment. He couldn’t help his shoulders rising slightly under his pads at the unwelcome intrusion into his thoughts.

He knew other players in the league thought he was soft for not standing up for himself or his teammates as much as he could. It wasn’t really that he was a less aggressive player than others on his team but he adamantly refused to engage in fights very often for one simple reason.

Sid didn’t really care about pulling his punches and it really wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to put the opposition back in their place sometimes but he usually managed to control himself and take it out on something in the locker during intermissions. His reluctance mostly stemmed from the knowledge that he wasn’t the biggest or strongest guy out on the ice at any given time and he knew, with pretty high certainty, that any attempt to actually fight would end with him having his ass handed back to him, painfully. It was easier to ignore the harsh words of others chirping him if he wasn’t flat out and bleeding on the ice from a knockout. Of course, there were times when personal pride came second to defending his team but there were usually others who were faster and more determined than Sid.

“Ignoring me, are we?” Sid resolutely kept his gaze away from the opposition winger even as he was bumped gently on the shoulder. “Or just frustrated that everyone is fucking around with a big dick contest instead of playing hockey?”

“Maybe I’m doing both,” Sid reluctantly spat out with a small nod of acknowledgment to the other player even as he kept a cautious eye on the battling pair across the ice.

“Sounds like something _lame_ that you would be doing.”

“Yeah, well my lame-ass is still winning against you. So what does that make you?”

“I guess you are, but we’ll still win in the end. ”

“You’re just lying to yourself, Giroux.”

“Maybe… maybe.”

The fight was quickly broken up and everyone reset for play to continue. Sid kept his head down and let the high-sticks and nasty chirps roll off him as he focused on getting the puck and being in the right place for his linemates; just getting points on the board. He didn't think about Giroux or his words until he was on the bench with Geno squashed in beside him.

"What Giroux want?" Geno had leaned in to keep his voice low and Sid shivered as Geno's breath caught on his sweaty skin.

"Nothing."

"Not looking like nothing."

"What?"

"You look angry, then you look sad. What Giroux say, Sid?"

Sid was saved from having to reply but the coach's call for a line change and he hopped the boards without a backward glance. It really had been nothing, so Geno had to have been looking awfully close to have caught the microexpressions on Sid's face. Or maybe he hadn't, maybe all it had taken was a glance because Geno had always been annoyingly astute about Sid's moods. Except about what really mattered, apparently.

A sudden blur of colour in front of him snapped Sid back into the game and he quickly avoided hitting the player in front of him with a turn that made his ankles twinge. Shaking his head to get back into the game, Sid focused solely on the play and tore down the ice. A hockey game was no place to pick through his feelings, especially not one against the Flyers.

They had managed to rack up some good shots as the period continued and Sid could feel the flow of the game returning; feel the buzz in his body as everything clicked. He was back on the ice, feeling the build-up to a solid goal attempt as they raced towards the net, when Shearsy was suddenly airborne. It took Sid a few seconds to work out what had happened, a few seconds too long because Pettersson had already dived at Couturier before he'd even taken a step forward.

His movement was stopped by a firm hand on his bicep and then an arm curling around his chest to pull him back. Sid cast an assessing glance at the player restraining him but relaxed when he spotted Giroux, the other man was still focused on the main fight and appeared to only be keeping Sid away. Giving a few token struggles to show he wasn't happy about the contact, Sid turned back to the fight as well. Petey was hammering away at Couturier and Sid bit his cheek to stop himself from hissing at some of the blows. That was going to hurt, there were definitely some solid connections mixed in with the slap-happy wrestling.

"That's got to be at least five minutes," Giroux muttered, a grimace of his own appearing when Petey got Couturier under the chin. "Or more."

"Maybe you should just call your dog off," Sid hissed back. "That's two he's done now."

"Coots is just blowing off steam."

"Well, he can blow the fuck off to somewhere else."

"He will," Giroux leaned in closer. "When we win."

"Not likely."

"Maybe, maybe. But… _they_ are taking away a defenceman from an already weak pair."

“Our defence is _fine_ ," Sid bristled. "Once we start playing again we won’t even _need_ defense because I’ll have that puck in the crease before you can blink.”

“Not the net though?” Giroux questioned teasingly and Sid turned to glare at the other man, shoving his arm off.

“No, because, unlike with you, I actually have respect for Hart in goal. He might even stop my shots occasionally.”

“Harsh, bud, you really wound me,” They both turned back to the still on-going fight after that, Giroux tapped his stick in agitation along with Sid when Petey seemed to lunge at Couturier all over again. “Still, you have to admit I could outshoot you.”

“What?”

“We may be 3-1 as teams but we still have the same number of goals between us two.”

“I also have an assist."

"But _one_ goal."

Sid shuffled uneasily at Giroux's persistence. "And?”

“How about we make this more interesting?”

“We’re playing a hockey game, what could _possibly_ be more interesting than that?” Sid let his gaze flick over to the other in annoyance even as he grew curious about what Giroux was suggesting.

“I was just thinking,” Giroux shrugged and continued slowly. “This game is going to drag and that sucks for everyone. This will definitely go into overtime and probably a shoot out.”

“No ‘definitely’ about it. You’re going to lose.”

“Either way, while the others are measuring their dicks, maybe we could play our own game. Have a bet going to make the waiting more interesting.”

Sid paused as he thought about the other’s words. He shouldn’t let himself get distracted from the game, he was a professional after all, but how could he really get distracted from a game that wasn’t really even happening. Turning back to Petey and Couturier to find the two, impossibly, still locked together and circling on the ice - now just taking the refs with them - Sid sighed. It _was_ going to be a long game even if it ended after the third period.

“What sort of thing were you thinking?”

“Top goal scorer wins.”

“I’m going to smoke you,” Sid muttered and watched with suspicion as Giroux smirked at his reply. “What?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, after all, Sheary was looking a little wobbly after that hit; not sure he'll be coming back down the tunnel in a hurry.”

“You think I can’t score without him?” Sid challenged, puffing up his chest to push into Giroux’s space.

“I don’t know, can you?”

“Fuck you.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“Yes. What's the win? Loser buys drinks?”

“Actually…” Giroux dragged out the word and Sid raised an eyebrow, _what was he planning?_ “I was thinking the loser would wear the winner’s jersey for the rest of the day.”

“Don’t be gross,” Sid recoiled. “As if I would wear your stupid jersey; I’d rather clean the locker room toilets.”

“If you’re too pussy to take the bet, just say so.”

“I’m not, just… why has it got to be that?”

“Because I know how much it would fucking humiliate you to wear your sworn enemy’s jersey.”

“Wait? Does it have to be _your_ jersey? Like with the number and…”

“Yup,” Giroux grinned.

“Fuck that,” Sid growled. “That’s lose-lose, even when I win you’ll still have my jersey, and, knowing you, you’ll do something gross like continue breathing while you wear it.”

“Okay, _if_ you win I’ll buy one of your jerseys from the fan shop and you can record it and post it on twitter. Deal?”

“Why are you so adamant about it? You want people to think you’re my bitch? Finally joined the _right_ side?"

“As if. It would be a huge step down from a literal supermodel to _you_.”

“Well, fuck you too if you think I’d want you either,” Sid bristled.

“Maybe you do," Giroux made a show of thinking about the option. "I wasn’t aware you’d had any action for a while. You didn’t even _try_ to act like you liked the last date you brought to the-”

“Shut it. That’s none of your business.”

Giroux threw his head back in a laugh and Sid let himself smile even as he forced down the irritation at the other man, he wouldn’t give Giroux the satisfaction of knowing how close to the mark he had gotten. His love life, or lack thereof, was not something he wanted to discuss on the ice.

He avoided it mostly for the same reason he didn’t get involved in fights during games because he knew he couldn’t stand up to his opponents. Hockey player’s dated models, _Geno_ dated models, or at least girls that looked like they were and he wasn’t ready to be completely embarrassed for attempting something impossible.

“So, it’s a deal then?” Giroux asked once he had finished laughing. “Loser wears the winner’s jersey for the rest of the night?”

Sid shook off his frustration and stupid longing to consider Giroux’s offer. Across the ice, Couturier and Petey were _still_ shoving at each other but appeared to have calmed down enough that play would be starting soon, still, the game was going to be a long one and Sid was raring for a bit of competition to keep his mind off the fights. As he turned back around to Giroux to put up a last bit of token resistance he spotted Hart skating over.

“Deal,” Sid quickly agreed and slid away from Giroux before a video of him fraternising with not one but _two_ Flyers' players on the ice was filmed and spread online.

Giroux didn’t comment and, instead, turned to his tender as Hart arrived with a smile, his helmet pushed back on his head and a water bottle in his glove. The goalie had clearly given up his vigil of the net to alleviate the boredom of waiting.

Sid didn’t mind Hart that much, they had seen each other around at events in Canada and he seemed alright. Hart was a solid player even if he had his wobbles, Sidney's 3 point game being one of them, there was definitely potential.

“You get the best seats to what this shit,” Hart mused instead of a greeting as he looked beyond Sid and Giroux to watch the brawling players. "They really went for it didn’t they."

“Went stupid,” Sid agreed.

"Fight's a fight," Hart countered. "It's always stupid when the Pens are on the ice."

"That can't be all though," Giroux continued with faux seriousness. "Even stupid players can be good. What happened with your team, Crosby? They're dog-shit,"

“You wouldn’t know a good player even if they-”

Sid’s attention was drawn back to the other players on the ice as a huge wave of yelling and banging filled the area. The refs finally managed to separate Petey and Couturier, as well as the other small scuffles, but the two players continued to shout back at each other as they were pushed off the ice. The crowd were still howling bloody murder as both players ended up in their respective boxes, still complaining and wildly gesturing at the refs in complaint.

“Finally,” Sid muttered as he pushed his mouthguard back into place; skating to his starting position as everyone began to reset.

“Game on, Sid,” Giroux called out as he moved past him.

“Prepare to lose.”

“We’ll see.”

After that, the puck was dropped and Sid had very little time to consider anything outside of keeping the puck on his tape and dodging the opposition as they chased him down the ice. Both teams played like they were on fire and the second period melted quickly into the third with a rush of goals. The sweet siren call of victory was loud in Sid's ears as they entered the last few minutes of the game and when the final buzzer went off he flung himself into the overexcited huddle of players, screaming his joy into the ears of anyone he could get his hands on. The group slammed up against the boards and Sid struggled to draw in more breath under the crush, yelling out again when he did from the sheer joy.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of Giroux that he realised two things. The redhead was tangled in the crowd of Flyers players, probably handing out platitudes and empty words - Sid knew what a loss felt like in a rivalry like theirs - but when their eyes met, Giroux offered him a small smirk and a two-fingered salute. It was only once his team was herding him off the ice that the reality of his deal with Giroux became clear.

He’d one the game but he had lost the bet.

Fuck.

Sid had showered and changed before anything else happened. Most of the guys were still dancing and yelling around the locker room, high on their taste of victory over the Flyers, and no one took notice when Sid’s phone chimed with a message. Sid had Giroux’s number from team Canada things and, as much as he was loath to admit it most days, the man wasn’t actually that bad - for a Flyer.

**C, Giroux:**

**Meet me in the guest medical room.**

Sid sighed as he read Giroux’s text. A bet's a bet but, _damn_ did he regret it. Sid may have had a three point game but he still only had one goal whereas Giroux had scored twice, the second coming late in the third. 2-1 with Giroux coming out on top, how annoying.

It didn’t take long for Sid to slip away, the team was pretty used to his flakey excuses for when it came to celebrating a win with the team. He could join them later and they wouldn’t even bat an eyelid, or he could not make an appearance at all to the same effect. It was comforting to know that his team knew him so well, and respected his peculiarities enough, to just let him be. It was just the boost he needed as he headed down the halls towards his destination.

He didn’t even make it fully into the room before a parcel of fabric was flung into his face. Sid caught it as it fell and looked up to find Giroux grinning at him.

“Very chipper for a loser,” Sid huffed out.

“Not a loser in everything,” Giroux countered. “And I think the results of this win will help ease the loss of the other one a lot.”

“Idiot. Just play better.”

Giroux snorted but Sid could see some of the fire blazing in the other man’s eyes. He had wanted to win, of course he had, so it would probably be wise to stop prodding the bear while he was still ahead. Switching his focus, Sid looked down at the garish jersey in his hands and sighed.

"Surely it should be on points scored," Sid complained as he squirmed at the sight of the bright orange jersey in his hands.

"We agreed: goals scored. That was the deal."

"Yeah, but I-"

"Can't go back on it now, Crosby. Put the damn thing on."

"You could've at least chosen the white one."

"And make it easy for you?" Giroux chuckled. “Never.”

The playful chirps relaxed Sid’s shoulders as Giroux seemed to lose the slightly volatile edge of his loss. If he placated him maybe he would be less vengeful next time, not likely but Sid could try especially when, for a few weeks, the man had been a teammate; a friend.

Sid reluctantly slid the Jersey on over his dress shirt, his jacket and coat would do a good job of hiding it until he could think of something else to do. It felt wrong, like an itch over his skin to have Giroux’s colours and number over his back. It was like a brand and definitely a humiliation; probably a pretty big target on his back, too, _if_ he was found out.

“You do make a sight, Crosby,” Giroux chuckled as he watched Sid smooth down the Jersey. “Definity an improvement.”

“Fuck off.”

“Now, now. I was giving you a compliment but, okay, I’ll stop teasing you.”

“Yes,” Sid plucked at the collar of his Jersey and sneered. “This is a big enough joke for the evening on its own.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.”

Sid rolled his eyes at Giroux and went back to fussing over the jersey. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Maybe,” Giroux shrugged. “What are your plans for the evening?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Come on. Are you telling me the boys don’t have a plan after beating us? I’d have thought someone had the evening planned out with precision by now.”

“Yes, well, I’m not that someone.”

“Whatever, as long as you’re out and on display, I don’t care.”

“Of course you don’t.” Sid grumbled. “I better go or they’ll leave without me.”

“Yes, you better,” Giroux waved him off with a greasy smile. Sid was almost out the door when he continued, a big toothy grin that made Sid’s stomach plummet to his feet. "Oh and just so you know, you can't tell anyone why you're wearing it."

"What?! No! That not what we-"

"Winners make the rules, Crosby."

"But that's _bullshit_!"

"Have a good night. See you at the next one."

Sid stood in the silent room as Giroux swept away and ground his teeth in annoyance. It was just taking advantage of an already bad situation but Sid couldn't honestly say he wouldn’t have been just as vindictive if it had been him calling the shots.

God, he needed a drink. _Fast_.

As it turned out, that wasn't going to be a problem. The players that were still hanging around the locker room were a bit surprised to see him back so soon but they gave him the name of the place chosen for the night and let him get on his way without too much chirping. He'd caught a ride and arrived at the bar in good time and quickly found the table the guys had claimed as their own.

His arrival earned a large cheer and a round slid in front of him almost immediately as he settled down with the others. The coat he still wore was a bit warm in the crowded room but they were close enough to a propped open fire exit that he could manage. He'd mostly forgotten his slight discomfort after a few beers and the conversation flowing around him kept him from thinking too much about his secret.

While getting a drink hadn't been an issue, his need to drink to excess was, as it turned out, a big fucking problem. Sid wasn't as used to drinking such large amounts as some of his teammates and, as a result, the effects were beginning to hit him rather hard. It was by luck more than anything else that by the time Sid was hammered enough to undo his coat only Geno was with him at the table, the others all off to get more drinks or make use of the heavy female presence in the bar.

He hasn't been thinking. He'd just been hot and sweaty and still coordinated enough to struggle with his coat fastenings. It was like instant relief to have the coat undone as stuffy air began to circulate around his torso. He was in bliss. That was, until he was yanked to the side and had a very angry Geno crowded into his face.

"Why you wear this Sid?"

"Because you need to wear clothes in public, Geno, that's the law," Sid hummed back, slightly confused about what was happening all of a sudden and feeling the drinks slide disorientingly through his blood.

"Is not law to wear… _this_ jersey."

"Ah…" Sid looked down at the stripe of orange peeking out and bit his lip; blinking hard. What could he say? He'd been sworn to secrecy and he wasn't fast enough to have an excuse ready. "Ummmm…"

"Is even number twenty-eight. Why you wearing this Sid?"

"No reason," Sid shrugged and then because he was drunk and couldn't shut up. "Giroux gave it to me. Can't be rude and not wear it. Poor bastard lost; didn't want to rub it in by refusing."

Sid was pretty pleased with himself. That was a pretty nice loop-hole to explaining the bet even if he did say so himself. Obviously anyone would realise that the only way he would be wearing anything from Giroux, just like Toews and his photo of shame in Kane's USA jersey, would be the outcome of a bet. Of course, Geno's absolutely _murderous_ scowl suggested something different, even a bet with the devil shouldn't have caused his easy-going friend to react in such a way.

"He _give_ you? And you _wear_?"

"Yes…?"

"You and Giroux are… together?"

"What?" Sid suddenly felt like a bucket of ice water had been dropped over him, he quickly tugged his coat closed and sat forward. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm being told all the time, jersey is for wives and girlfriends but maybe it's for boyfriends too. So-"

"No, Geno, no," Sid exclaimed, horrified.

"I'm not judge. I say earlier you want to date a man as joke but if you do it's not problem. Just Giroux? I'm thinking you might-"

"It was for a _fucking_ bet not my coming out attempt. Of course I'm not into Giroux."

"A bet?" Geno repeated stupidly.

"Yes, a _bet_. Over who scored more goals."

"So… you're not with Giroux?"

"No. Of course not."

"You're not with anyone?"

"We went over this literally this morning, Geno. You just mentioned it so I know you remember."

Geno nodded sagely then paused before frowning at Sid. "But you want to be with someone?"

Sid froze at the abrupt change of direction. "G- ?"

"You don't like Giroux?"

"No."

"But you like _someone_?"

"What do you want me to say here? What are you asking, Geno?"

"Is the someone you are liking a man?"

Sid felt his thoughts swirling as Geno's questions fired into him at top speed. Geno thought he would date Giroux? No. Geno thought he wanted someone, though? A man? No, that wasn't right. Geno wasn't asking because he knew, there was something in his voice - a small tremble - maybe, Geno hoped?

"You're asking if I'm gay?"

"No," Geno groaned and scrubbed at his face, Sid knew the feeling as he was pretty frustrated himself. "I think I know that. I'm ask if you like man. Give me a name, Sid."

"Who says there _is_ a name."

"I know there is."

"You can't _know-_ "

"I know. The _name_ , Sid."

Sid could feel all his drunken control slipping away. Not only was he being outed, but he was also being cornered by his best friend _in public_ and being forced to admit the darkest and most private part of himself. He brain wasn't functioning enough to understand if Geno was angry at not knowing the name, angry at Sid being gay, or just angry-drunk. It was confusing and Sid could feel his defenses rising, sharp barbs on the walls.

"Why do you care?" Sid spat at Geno and ignored the other's flinch by fully leaning into the drunkenness clouding his mind. "You dragged me out of bed and then spent all afternoon talking to the perfect _Ms._ _Bulan- Bul- Bulantseva… siva? Sevaaaa?_ Why do I owe you a name?"

"Was not all afternoon."

"Seemed like it to me. Tanger even had to pry you apart on his way in."

"Sid, I'm not-" Geno suddenly froze and his face widened in realisation. _Good_ , Sid thought savagely, _now you know_. However instead of looking guilty, Geno looked almost relieved and leaned in to speak earnestly.

"Sid, you listen to me and I explain."

"You don't have to Geno, just don't deny it. I saw Tanger bring you in-"

"No, listen. Tanger bring me in, yes, but he not finding me with reporter. I'm with Vorobyev."

It took a moment for Sid's floating mind to connect the strange word with one of the Flyers' names. _Vorobyev_ , huh. It could still be a lie but something in Sid trusted Geno beyond all reason and he nodded slowly as he absorbed the information.

"A Flyers player?"

"He is Flyer," Geno acknowledged. "But he is also Russian. We talk about home."

"All afternoon?"

"Lots to talk about."

"Yeah… lots indeed," Sid felt floaty and dazed as he took in the new information, Geno sat quietly by his side. "All afternoon? Really?"

"Yes. All of it."

Sid nodded and paused before pressing on, his words distant in his own ears. "Why did you come to my house today, G?"

"I come to see you, always want to see Sid."

"Oh… I thought you came to get me so we could see someone you liked… the lady-"

"I did come to see person I like, person I love maybe but is not girl."

"Not a girl."

"No."

"Is the person you like a man?"

"Why _you_ care, Sid? If you try say there is no one you like, then why you care?"

"Because you're my friend and I-?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Yes, is a man, and you ask no more silly questions. The person is you. Not reporter or Vorobyev or _Tanger_ , is you."

"Me?"

"Yes."

This couldn't be happening, he couldn't _let_ this be happening. Sid instinctively reached for his list but each point had been crossed off and disproven over the years and now when he reached the final point he had to pause, consider, and re-evaluate.

Geno was… gay? Or at least interested.

There was no other defence left; no other reason to fight the years of respect and trust and longing that Sid had thrumming beneath his skin. He could give into it now wholehearted and maybe with some certainty, at least for now.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Geno seemed to startle at Sid's easy acceptance. "Sid… you sure?"

"I'm sure. I think I like you too."

"Is good you are sure because we must go."

"Go?"

"Yes, go and get **his** jersey off you. If you wear others' jersey you wear mine. Only mine."

The words on Sid's tongue dried up as Geno wrapped his large hand around Sid's wrist and tugged him up from the table. The warm weight on his skin sent a flutter of anticipation along his arm and up into his chest.

They swung by some of the remaining guys crowded at the bar to let them know they were off and they were now officially on the hook for getting everyone that was left home safely. Sid wasn't used to the cajoling to stay for 'one more' but Geno clearly was as he navigated their entangling conversations easily; Sid was beginning to get the idea that Geno always wasn't nearly as drunk as he'd first thought, if at all.

The decision of who was driving was pretty clear, Sid was well past the point of even knowing which way his keys went _in_ to the ignition, let alone how to get the engine running. Geno wasn't parked far from the bar but he kept a tight hold on Sid's arm the entire trip as if scared Sid would make a run for it drunk and in the middle of Pittsburgh.

Sid felt like he flopped into the passenger seat and winced at himself. Real smooth. Why couldn't he have the same control and confidence he had on the ice? It wasn't like he fell into a different body when his skates were off but maybe he had weird amnesia on how to act normal instead. Geno didn't seem to notice Sid's lack of coordination, he was probably used to it, as he buckled up and carefully pulled out onto the street.

"We go to mine or to you?"

"Whatever, G."

"Mine then," Geno nodded to himself and flipped his turn signal. "I have what is needed."

"What do we need?"

"Need to put right name on your back," Geno's sharp grin was caught in the street lights and Sid nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight.

Deciding it would probably be better not to say anything, he'd only make a fool of himself if he did, Sid tried to order his thoughts a little. He couldn't help his eyes fluttering closed as he watched a blur of colours from the city's lights. He wasn't nearly drunk enough to have a one-night stand and possibly ruin their friendship but he also wasn't sober enough to make sure they were both on the same page either.

Why did it have to be that night, of all the possible times throughout their friendship that Geno could have sprung this, when Sid was drunk and buzzing off the win, and wearing _Giroux's_ fucking jersey? It was so damn unfair.

When Geno had leaned over and placed a massive hand on Sid's thigh he hadn't even recognised the parking for Geno's place. Geno squeezed gently and Sid snapped his attention to the other man. Was this it? Did Geno expect to go all the way? Did he expect to _not_?

"You still sure, Sid? Can stop if not feel comfortable."

"I'm- it's okay… we can…"

"Not lie to me," Geno spoke sternly and twisted in his seat to meet Sid's gaze full on. "Is like hockey, should be perfect for Sid. Only perfect."

Sid's breath caught in his chest at the echo of words from the locker room, before the game and the _stupid_ bet, and how earnest Geno had looked. Something warm and bold stole over his mind and Sid found himself tangling his fingers with Geno's hand that was still resting on his thigh.

"I don't need perfect, G. Maybe, I just need this."

Geno's gaze was scorching as his eyes trailed up from their joined hands and up Sid's chest. It almost felt like a physical caress after so long waiting for _something_ and Sid couldn't hold back the shiver.

"Good, because I am needing you too."

A thumb nudged at Sid's bottom lip and Sid was hyper-aware of his panting breath brushing over Geno's hand, painfully obvious. They stayed frozen for a few moments before Geno was suddenly gone and the cold air was flooding into the cab as Sid's door was opened. Blinking heavily, Sid turned to find Geno offering him a hand out of the vehicle.

How was the other man moving so fast? Or was Sid just moving slowly? Disjointedly falling through a flowing timeline. Sid's head was spinning and his heart was racing but he found himself easily following Geno up to the front door, the weight reappearing around his wrist to guide him.

Geno paused at the door only long enough to get his keys and unlock it before he was pushing Sid inside; his large hand splayed over the small of Sid's back to nudge him through the doorway. The sound of the front door closing and a lock being thrown was like the blare of a goal horn in Sid's ears as his limbs began to tremble in excitement. Despite being locked in with his decision, literally now, Sid was pretty sure he had never been more certain of anything since the day he had first hit a puck across a frozen Canadian lake.

Once the door was close, Geno turned to face him and slowly - eyes darting up and down Sid's body - pressed into his space. Sid's breath caught in his chest as he stood firm and looked up into Geno's face. A small smile spread across the other man's face in response to their new closeness and Sid leaned into the hand that came up to cup his cheek. Geno's large hand felt warm and steady on his face, the exact opposite of his own anticipatory trembling.

"You are looking best like this. Sid is always best but this look… it is best because it is for me," Geno grinned and let his fingers trail to Sid's lips. "Only for me. That look."

"What look?"

"So strong and firm, our captain but, now, you are _my_ Sid. Can do anything you want and I'm not believing you want me."

"Is that so?" Sid couldn't help but tease.

"Yes, but I _know_."

The gleam in Geno's eye sent a delicious shiver down Sid's spine. The heated atmosphere between them emboldened Sid once again and he stepped forward the last few inches to press himself completely against Geno's body. The feel of firm muscles, strong and slightly different from his own, rubbing against him through their clothes sent ribbons of pleasure shooting down to Sid's groin.

Geno growled deep in his throat and wrapped his arms around Sid's waist to tug him forward. The hold bent Sid backward and thrust his hips into Geno's; revealing a growing hardness in Geno's trousers as well. A small grunt of pleasure was the only thing that managed to escape Sid's mouth before insistent lips were bearing down on him.

The kiss made something excited and molten with desire rise up in Sid's chest and his hands lifted to grab at Geno's shoulders, looking for an anchor but only finding more hard muscle that made him moan. Geno redoubled his efforts at the noise and the force, the longing, behind the kiss sent Sid backward a few paces and into the wall. The edge of a picture frame digging into his shoulder was barely noticed as Geno continued to kiss him, drawing away occasionally to nip at Sid's lips before soothing the sting with his tongue. Time was beginning to float away again as pleasure and alcohol warred within Sid's mind to take control of his stupefaction when Geno pulled back completely and only chuckled when Sid tried to follow.

"Tell me, one last time, this is what you want."

"I want this," Sid hummed, grinding his hips down on the leg Geno had slipped between his thighs.

"No going back, Sid."

"Good."

Sid surged back to Geno's lips and enjoyed the feel of them once again. So many years of looking and now he could feel, he could _know_ , what it was like to kiss Geno.

Soon greedy hands began to tug at clothing and Sid did his best to help Geno as the other slid off his coat. He was vaguely aware of the fabric hitting the ground but Geno had moved his glorious mouth to his neck, sucking and biting along the sensitive skin and distracting him. Next, Geno grumbled as he fought to strip off the orange jersey from Sid's body.

"Will have to burn," Geno muttered darkly as it finally lifted over Sid's head.

"It was just a bet, Geno, it really meant-"

"Don't want you think of _him_ now. Want you to be mine in body and in thinking."

"I _am_ , Geno, I-"

Sid's words were left unsaid as a loud moan burst from his throat. Geno's hand had skimmed down Sid's front to cup his dick through his trousers; the new pressure and sensation of Geno's thumb stroking over the head making his body jerk.

"Good but I am wanting to do it anyway. I make you forget."

Once again Sid didn't have time to respond before his wrist was grabbed and he was being hauled up the stairs. They didn't stop until they reached Geno's bedroom. Geno turned to push Sid inside in front of him and then made his way over to the walk-in wardrobe; disappearing inside. He wasn't gone for long before he returned holding black and yellow material.

Instantly knowing what it was, Sid couldn't help but smile. Geno returned the grin and stepped back into Sid's space; looping his arms around Sid's body once again. It felt so exhilarating to be so close and thoughts of what might come next swirled in Sid's head causing him to harden even further until he was straining in his suit.

Geno seemed to be murmuring something in Russian and he looked over Sid's face again, sounding reverent and happy in a way that made Sid feel proud. He liked the reactions he seemed to be pulling from the other man with every touch of his body and glance from beneath his eyelashes. It was what he'd fantasized about and more, so much more.

They continued standing, leaning into each other, and trading lazy kisses for a long time. Rhythmically moving hips and exploring hands working well to distract them both from anything else as dress shirts were discarded and zippers undone so their hands could trail over bare skin. Sid felt like he was on the moon but the urgency slowly building told him he needed more, more, _more_. Without words Geno seemed to get the message and pulled away. Geno crouched to pick up the long-forgotten jersey where it had fallen on the floor and pulled it over Sid's head. Sid reacted instinctively, putting his arms through the holes and slipping the top on.

Once it was on, Geno gripped Sid's hips and used his hold to spin Sid around so his back was arched against Geno's front. At first, Sid mourned the loss of the skin-to-skin contact but then he saw what was in front of them; what Geno had carefully created.

Geno's taller, but more slender, frame stood behind him like a shadow as Sid watched himself in the large mirror in front of them. Geno tucked his chin over Sid's shoulder and caught Sid's earlobe between his teeth as their eyes met in the sliver surface. Sid could feel, and see, his cheek flush as he watched them together: Geno covering his back and his large hand reaching around to push Sid's trousers down from his hips and slowly stroke Sid's erection.

What really caught his eye was the jersey and the large 'A' replacing his omnipresent 'C'. The length of the garment, reaching well down the backs of his thighs, made him shiver as he was reminded of the baulk of the man behind him; the number 71 on the sleeve only confirming his thoughts. Geno had ripped him out of Giroux's jersey and then slipped him into his own - sneaky bastard, and smug to given the teasing smirk on his face. Sid couldn't find it in himself to care, he's been Geno's for a long time and the physical claim spread pleasure through his body like a wildfire.

"You look much better as Penguin," Geno's gravelly voice sounded in Sid's ear as he continued his torturous stroking.

"As a Penguin?" Sid huffed, trying not to jerk his hips into the tight ring of Geno's fingers and make it last. "Or is it just in your jersey?"

"Look so good with my jersey, yes, but look even better with C. You deserve."

"Shame I can't have both," Sid mused.

Geno replied by tightening his grip and speeding up. After all the building up and teasing, the new rhythm, certain to bring him release, nearly sent Sid to his knees; only his grip on Geno's forearms kept him upright as he leaned back against his chest. As they talked, Geno had gotten his own trousers undone and shoved down his legs; Sid could feel Geno's dick sliding slickly over his ass and lower back. Each movement shoved Sid closer and closer to the edge as Geno gave Sid his pleasure and took his own from Sid's willing body.

"Maybe not now but one day," Geno hummed, his breaths panting between his words. "One day I give you my name for jersey to go with C. Give you the best, Sid, always. Perfect."

Sid knew he was done for as soon as the words hit the heated air. It felt so much like a promise, like a prayer, and like everything he had ever hoped for that Sid couldn't have held back if he wanted too. The pleasure sizzling in his stomach drew taut as Geno continued to jerk him off and kiss along his neck. Sid's intense gaze followed each and every move as he watched in the mirror.

At first, he didn't know where to look, he could see the veins and muscles in Geno's forearms; the shine on his skin as Geno's lips moved over it; the trembling in his legs or the flush of his cheeks but finally, he was caught, fixated, on where the head of his dick disappeared and reappeared in Geno's grasp. Red and full with waiting, and slightly rough from the speed, Sid couldn't take his eyes off of the reflection for a second.

The moment seemed to go on for hours, hours of him suspended between the delirious want and the sharp pleasure of release until everything suddenly snapped. Sid came with a shout as Geno continued to pump him through it while rolling his own hips between the muscles of Sid's exposed ass. Sid could feel himself tumbling into a deep bliss and tiny aftershocks spread through his body; drawing loud grunts from Geno as well.

Sid was just coming back to himself when the clenched-teeth groans from Geno turned into strangled cries. Frantic hands batted at Sid's shoulders as Geno grunted; his hand moving to his cock to jerk furiously. Sid followed the pressure on his shoulders and knelt, his face coming level with Geno's flushed erection. The desperation in the furious blurr of Geno's hand and his tensed shoulder had Sid licking his lips as he watched. He'd done that, he'd brought Geno to such a desperate point where the man sounded as though he might die.

He was about to offer a helping hand - or mouth - when Geno had suddenly frozen with the exception of the hand on his dick. After a heartbeat, the breath seemed to explode out of Geno and his body jerked uncontrollably; a few streaks of warmth also hitting Sid in the face and neck. At first, he wanted to recoil but the bliss on Geno's face kept Sid in place to ride it out; they would clean up soon anyway, Sid reasoned.

Once he was finished, Geno reached down to haul Sid up and into his arms. Small murmurs of more Russian filtered between them and Sid was just happy to breathe and enjoy being in Geno's arms again. Their breathing had finally settled down when Geno pulled away and Sid could see the fondness in his eyes.

"So… umm… always, huh?" Sid didn't want to ask, it was stupid to ask, but he needed to know it would be too painful to continue if it wasn't true.

"Always," Geno agreed, pushing some of Sid's hair back from his face.

"Good, because I definitely need more of that."

"I say I give best," Geno puffed up at Sid's words and beamed with pride as he winked playfully.

"Best? Oh, I don't know, Geno… was it really that good? I just-"

Sid didn't get to finish as Geno growled and tackled him to the bed. Sid couldn't help laughing as his light teasing earned such a reaction from the other man, he could definitely get used to that kind of enthusiasm.

"I show you best!"

"Geno, at least let me wash my face before-"

"I wash for you."

Sid's disgruntled reply was interrupted by Geno licking a broad stripe up his cheek and then diving in to mouth along Sid's jaw. The rest of his thoughts turned fuzzy as Geno's weight pressed into him and wandering hands began to tug at the trousers around his knees.

Everything faded away as Sid felt drawn into the world of pleasure and care Geno was offering. The feeling of Geno above him and the smooth sheets of Geno's bed below him settled into Sid's heart like a warm embrace. He was where he had always longed to be.

Finally.


End file.
